


Kinetosis

by fingalsanteater



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Holding Hands, Introspection, M/M, Nausea, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/pseuds/fingalsanteater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Londo wasn't lying when he said the window seat made him queasy. G'Kar considers his new appointment as Londo's bodyguard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinetosis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amatara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amatara/gifts).



> On the B5 kink meme, Amatara requested "that scene where Londo tells G'Kar he doesn't want to take the window seat because he gets queasy: what if he really was telling the truth?"

Incredibly, it was possible for Londo to blanch even further, his normally pale skin appearing exceptionally pallid in the dimmed light of the passenger transport. The last time G'Kar had seen him with such a sickly pallor, Londo was on the verge of death and muttering barely audible apologies from a hospital bed.  
  
His mouth twisted into a grimace at the memory, an automatic reaction that took G'Kar by surprise. There was a time when the thought of Londo's death would have brought a smile to his face-- did bring a smile to his face. G'Kar would have died himself, just to ensure the death of his one-time enemy, and now he was tasked with guarding the same man's life. The universe seemed intent turning his expectations upside down over and over again until paradigm shifts regarding enemies and friends became something of a wicked routine.  
  
He and Londo weren't so much drawn to each other as they crashed into each other over and over again; one the waves of the ocean, the other the sandy shore, taking and leaving something of themselves each time they collided.  
  
G'Kar eyed Londo surreptitiously, noting the thinning of his lips and the small grimace tugging his mouth downward. He briefly contemplated ignoring the obvious signs of distress on Londo's face, not feeling up to trading barbs at this particular moment, but it wasn't like him to pass up an opportunity to antagonize Londo.  
  
Proposing that Londo looked unwell would surely rile him up. Truly, though, Londo looked quite ill, skin white as sun-bleached bones and shiny with a fine sheen of perspiration. His hands clenched the arm rests, skin taut and knuckles white.  
  
"Are you sure you're alright, Mollari? I'd hate for my tenure as your bodyguard to end with your death before we even reached Centauri Prime." Propriety called for G'Kar to obscure his sincere concern behind flippancy and biting sarcasm, but despite his words his tone was too soft, like over-ripe fruit. He wanted to cut out the rotten parts and swallow down the rest before decay fully set in.  
  
"I'm fine, G'Kar," Londo lied through gritted teeth.  
  
"Surely not, said G'Kar firmly. He attempted to mask his previous softness by overcompensating with a show of dramatics sure to annoy Londo.  
  
"You are," he pressed the back of his hand to Londo's damp forehead like a mother would a child, "clammy, cold and assuredly not 'fine.'" Londo grumbled and batted his hand away weakly.  
  
"Did Delenn appoint you my bodyguard or my nursemaid? Admittedly, I have some need for the former, but I have no need for," he paused and swallowed conspicuously, "the latter." Londo's fingers began slowly, repetitively scratching at the fabric of the armrest next to G'Kar.  
  
"I would think Cotto plays nursemaid for you better than even I could manage," said G'Kar, with some heat behind his words this time. The rasp of Londo's fingers against the fabric was starting to grate, the sharp sound standing out over the hum of the engines and the rustle and low murmur of the transport's few passengers. Centauri Prime was not a popular destination these days.  
  
Eyes narrowed, Londo shot G'Kar a dark look. "Are we finished for now, G'Kar? As much as I enjoy our little verbal sparring matches, I'm not in the mood at this particular moment."  
  
G'Kar was taken aback. "You really are sick, Mollari," he said, not even caring this time if genuine concern seeped in. It was worrisome when Londo started speaking plainly, garrulousness muted by a steely intensity.  
  
"I told you," he paused and pressed his lips together tightly for a few moments, then swallowed and continued, "the window seat makes me queasy."  
  
Blunt fingernails were scratching harder at the ugly chartreuse fabric of the armrest; the sound and feel of Londo's skin against the material obviously a tactic to distract away from his nausea and focus on anything else. G'Kar slumped slightly, hopefully imperceptibly, in his seat. Leave it to Londo to somehow manage making him feel guilty for doing his job, but Londo had always elicited strange feelings in him.  
  
"I wasn't being contrary when I sat you there," G'Kar admitted. "It really is safer."  
  
"I know." Londo sighed, seemingly hating to admit he knew G'Kar was taking his job seriously. G'Kar was doing more than taking his job seriously, as much as he hated to admit that to himself. He actually cared for Londo beyond just keeping him alive-- he cared enough for his well-being that he was willing to do something to reduce Londo's discomfort.  
  
G'Kar considered the possibility of an assassin knifing, shooting or somehow poisoning Londo in this almost empty transport. He conceded it was probably quite unlikely. They'd wait until Londo was back on Centauri Prime, where escape would be easier.  
  
"I feel it's safe enough to trade seats for a while." G'Kar hoped his concession didn't set a precedent in this new facet of their relationship. He'd hate for Londo to think he yielded easily just to preserve Centauri sensitivities or to mitigate mild discomfort, despite it being the uncomfortable truth.  
  
There was a blessed lull in Londo's incessant scratching while he contemplated G'Kar's offer. "I'm touched by your concern for my well-being, G'Kar," he said, finally, voice tight. "But, I'll be fine."  
  
G'Kar wasn't sure if Londo had picked up on his worry, or if he was just throwing G'Kar's offer back in his face with the best insult he could manage. He felt torn between anger that Londo rejected an offer born of true concern and anger at his own strange, tender feelings. Why he should care that Londo is uncomfortable and ill?  
  
G'Kar let that anger and confusion seep into his reply. "It won't be fine if you vomit on me. I'm more concerned for the state of my coat than your comfort. Don't be stubborn, Mollari, and trade with me."  
  
"I've spent too many years in politics swallowing down bile to succumb to a bit of transport sickness," Londo replied bitterly.

Suddenly, G'Kar remembered that Cartagia had taken a liking to Londo. He imagined if Londo could survive him for weeks, stomach contents intact, he could make the remaining seven hours to Centauri Prime. The flesh of G'Kar's eye socket itched and he blinked around his artificial eye.

  
The scritch of fingers against fabric started up again. G'Kar wasn't going to make seven hours if he had to listen to that noise the entire time. He watched Londo's fingers moving back and forth. When he was eyeless and imprisoned, he could see so clearly the blood staining those pale fingers. Now, though, all he could see were the soft, white hands of a bureaucrat. He knew the blood was still there, invisible to the eye, but weighing heavily.  
  
He began to feel restless and irritated, watching Londo's scratching fingers and thinking about their past. He made a sudden choice to distract them both. Boldly, he took Londo's hand in his, lacing their fingers together.  
  
"What are you doing," Londo hissed, trying to pull from his grasp.  
  
"Saving myself the headache your unrelenting scratching would decidedly produce."  
  
"I'm not sure this," he waggled their clasped hands, "is an appropriate preventative." Londo sounded outraged, but now wasn't making much of an effort to pull away.  
  
G'Kar smoothed his thumb over Londo's knuckles. "Possibly. But it's a better solution than chopping off your fingers."  
  
Londo barked out a laugh, "That would save you a headache. Though, your neck might be sore, yes?"  
  
"Yes," G'Kar laughed, "your people would have my head up on a pike as soon I set foot on Centauri Prime."  
  
Londo's index finger was rubbing steadily back and forth against the calloused skin of G'Kar's palm.

"It wouldn't do for my bodyguard to be killed before getting a chance to properly do his job," said Londo with a smirk. G'Kar just squeezed Londo's hand in response. They both settled back into their seats to ride out the remaining seven hours, hands still clasped.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Amatara for the fic prompt and for our great chats about Londo's characterization. You're an inspiration. :)


End file.
